


we can't all be nice people

by 49percentchanceofbees



Series: Telvura Crew [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Background Character Death, Gen, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Original Character-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/49percentchanceofbees/pseuds/49percentchanceofbees
Summary: Some heated discussion in RP ended with 4/5ths ofthe Telvura's crewstomping off to express their emotions on Omega. Here, we see two of them.





	we can't all be nice people

**Author's Note:**

> (This is probably a weird thing to post as my first work, but I finished it just as I finished making this account, so ... )
> 
>  
> 
> [also available on deviantART](https://argetl.deviantart.com/art/we-can-t-all-be-good-people-Mass-Effect-oc-fic-716996137)

Omega was not a good place to wander aimlessly, or to give any less than one’s full attention. But somehow, despite the fact that she was clearly lost in thought, no one decided to bother the furious asari striding through the slums. Something about her (she knew exactly what it was) made even the toughs who’d go toe to toe with a krogan -- and even the krogan themselves -- choose not to try this one.

_ You need to control yourself. _

_ I always control myself -- I’m sick of it! Why should I be all patient and reasonable when no one else can be assed to think twice? _

_ You know why. Stop acting like a child. _

_ I am a child! _

The urge to break things filled Ria’s body, pressed hot against her skin from the inside, manifesting externally as little flashes and sparks of biotic energy, which definitely did not make her any less intimidating. At this convenient moment, her eyes landed on a streetside display of what could optimistically be called literature, ranging from the off-color to the abjectly pornographic. Featured prominently in the middle was, of course, a sultry-eyed asari …

Biotics surged, and the display exploded, raining debris, a significant proportion of them slamming against the wall behind it. The proprietor, a human with more entrepreneurial gusto than self-preservation instincts, jumped up from where he’d sat idly next to his merchandise.

“Hey! What the fuck?”

Ria kept walking.

“Hey! Hey, you have to pay for that, you can’t just -- yo,  _ bitch _ , I’m talking to y --”

The man hit the wall just like his merchandise, biotic force closing off his throat, squeezing his ribs …

_ Don’t do this. Don’t throw away everything you have …  _

_ I have nothing! _ Ria’s fist clenched, and the man began to choke, eyes bulging. Sitting on a doorstep somewhere behind Ria, some watching batarians muttered to each other, laughing a little, and started to make bets. Their laughter grated in Ria’s ears, but the fear in the human’s eyes entirely made up for it -- the fear and the knowledge that he was completely powerless, that no one was going to help him, that he was  _ nothing _ and meant  _ nothing _ … That sense of power, of control, rushing through Ria was better than sex. (Admittedly she did not have a great amount of experience to make the comparison with, but she was still certain of it.) In that moment she was this man’s entire world. His life, in her hands, as easily crushed as …

_ A fucking bug _ .

The man fell to the ground in a heap.

_ What am I doing? Oh, Goddess, I --  _

“Oh, come on!” called one of the batarians. “I bet 500 that you’d pop his ugly little head off!”

The batarian’s companions laughed, though one of them started to mutter about making bets on  _ him _ , and they did edge away a bit. As Ria turned to them, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the human scrambling back to his feet, some kind of blade in his hand … 

Ria didn’t hear the shot, just the dull sound of the bullet ripping through the man’s head, blood spurting in a pathetic and short-lived little fountain. The batarians gasped theatrically, and the one who’d called out to her immediately turned to argue with his friend as to whether that counted as “popping his ugly little head off” after all, for the purpose of the bet. Ria turned and walked away, following that line of sight.

“I thought you were drinking yourself to death,” she said.

Kaxel shrugged, lovingly and luxuriously reloading her rifle. “‘S always time to do that later.”

The drell had positioned herself up on an elevated gantry. Ria’s biotics negated any need to look for stairs; she sat down next to Kaxel.

“As long as we’re trafficking in cliches … I had him.”

“I know.”

“And I wouldn’t’ve killed him.”

Kaxel shrugged again. “We can’t all be nice people.”

A long silence. Kaxel stroked the barrel of her rifle as it cooled, bringing it up next to her face in a near-caress. 

“Don’t follow me again,” Ria said. “I don’t need to be watched.”

“OK.” Kaxel stood, slinging the rifle over her back. “Though it’s not a question of need, you know. Anyway, drinks at Afterlife? Your treat, since I did just kill a guy for you.”

“You know I don’t drink.”

“Ah well, worth a try.” Not having biotics, Kaxel had to actually head for the stairs. “See you later, cap’n.”

She gave a half-mocking salute as Ria sat, unmoving, on the gantry, staring intently at nothing at all.


End file.
